Have you ever kept logging into a game out of habit, even when it stopped being fun? That was me with Elder Scrolls Online (ESO). For years, I logged in daily just to claim the login reward, even though I wasn’t enjoying the game anymore. On January 1, 2025, I finally uninstalled it. Let’s talk about why this once-beloved game lost its charm for me.
Champion Points: A Grind Too Far
Once you hit level 50 in ESO, all your experience points go toward Champion Points. With a cap of 3,600, you’d think it’d be exciting to level up, but for me, the grind stopped being fun around 600 points. Why? Because you’re limited in how many points you can actually use, which makes farming for more feel pointless.
Have you ever felt like you were grinding for something you didn’t even care about? That’s how I felt with Champion Points. And here’s the kicker: I had two separate players join the game just to “beat” my Champion Points total. Imagine grinding experience to surpass something I didn’t care about! When I reminded them I’d been playing since beta and had hundreds of XP boost scrolls stockpiled, it didn’t matter. They were determined. I wasn’t. Both times, I logged out and didn’t return for months.
Since I mostly played solo, I wish I could toggle making my Champion Points total public.
Not Alt-Friendly
When ESO had a sale last year, my friends and I picked up missing expansions. I was bored of playing my Sorcerer, so I decided to try out the new Arcanist class. After having fun in the character creator, I logged in and was immediately annoyed.
Sure, my Champion Points would carry over when I hit level 50, but everything else? Gone. No map progress. I had an excruciatingly slow mount. And leveling a mount in ESO takes 160-180 real-world days per character. Let that sink in: half a year of daily logins for one mount to move faster.
Contrast that with World of Warcraft’s approach in The War Within, where they’ve made more progress account-bound to respect players’ time. ESO, meanwhile, seems to cling to systems that punish players for creating alts.
Quests = Déjà Vu
Determined to enjoy my new character, I decided to dive into the latest expansion. But as I started questing, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d done it all before. The stories, objectives, and pacing felt like recycled content from other zones.
It wasn’t just repetitive—it was boring. I wanted to care about the plight of the quest givers, but I found trying to fast forward through the voiced dialogue just to finish and move on.
Monetization Kills the Fun
ESO’s monetization model feels like it’s designed to frustrate players into spending money. Want your mount to level faster? Buy training boosts in the store. Need inventory space? Subscribe for the crafting bag. Even as a subscriber, you’ll still need to purchase plenty of items separately.
For some players, the subscription and store purchases might be worth it. For me, though, it felt like too little value. When my friends subscribed and I didn’t, we couldn’t do certain dungeons together because I didn’t have access. Compared to other MMORPGs, ESO gives me the least value for my money.
Why Can’t I Fly?
Flying is one of my favorite features in MMORPGs. In World of Warcraft, I love soaring through zones and taking in the scenery. Both Dragonflight and The War Within let players fly almost immediately, proving that flight doesn’t make zones irrelevant—it enhances them.
ESO’s Game Director, Rich Lambert, once said during a stream flying would make zones irrelevant, but in a game where all zones scale to your level, irrelevance is subjective. For me, a zone becomes irrelevant when I’m tired of it. Forcing me to fight through mobs just to get from point A to point B doesn’t make the world more engaging; it makes it tedious.
On my speedy mount, most mobs can’t catch up with me. Doesn’t that make the zone irrelevant just like flying?
Then he said he would not add flying because players were already accessing areas he did not want them to access. World of Warcraft and Final Fantasy 14 had to reprogram their game to make flying work. Older games like these were not made to be viewed top down like a player would when flying.
Since I enjoy flying so much, I’ve realized I can’t fully enjoy an MMORPG that denies me that freedom.
Breaking the Habit
I stopped playing ESO before my friends did. Watching their progress on Discord was like watching the same movie on repeat. One friend finally surpassed my Champion Points total—congrats to him, I guess—but soon after, they all stopped playing too.
Despite this, I kept logging in daily, claiming rewards like it was some kind of bad habit. Finally, I asked myself, “Why am I doing this?” On January 1, after confirming there wasn’t anything worthwhile as a login reward, I uninstalled the game.
Acknowledging the Community
While ESO may no longer resonate with me, I know it still has a devoted community of players who find joy in exploring Tamriel, completing dungeons, and immersing themselves in the lore. That passion is what keeps games like ESO alive.
At the same time, I understand many players feel their concerns have fallen on deaf ears. This is just one of countless discussions where dedicated fans have poured their hearts into feedback, hoping for meaningful changes. It’s disheartening to see the divide between the community and the developers grow.
Still, I hold onto hope. ESO has shown in the past that it can evolve and surprise us. Perhaps, with enough time and open dialogue, the game can rekindle its spark and remind us all why we fell in love with Tamriel in the first place.
For now, I’m ready to move on. Next up on my chopping block? Warframe.
